An Excellent Drawing
by iviscrit
Summary: Ever wondered how Voldy came up with the Dark Mark? Ever wondered why McGonagall hates the sight of it? Wonder no longer!


A/N: Wrote this baby on the plane back home. Aren't you proud of me? Hope you enjoy. To Eva: I've decided I love this style of T/M fic. Expect more of it!

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><p><em>Hogwarts, 1943<em>

It was not often, Tom mused, that Minerva McGonagall was to be found sitting morose and alone on a bench on the Hogwarts grounds just outside the Astronomy tower. The girl exuded confidence and an innate sense of leadership- though, Tom supposed, that was to be expected, as she _was_ Head Girl after all. Yet here she sat on the first day of spring vacation, the sun in the sky and the weather perfect for her usual afternoon flight- she was a creature of habit- and Minerva remained on the bench, stony-faced and her mouth a tight line.

"Why's she so.." Tom tried to ask Dolohov, attempting to appear uninterested as they settled themselves on a knoll under a shade tree. "What happened? Bad news, or something?"

Dolohov laughed in disbelief. "How is it you know more than the teachers about what goes on in Hogwarts but you're clueless about a huge piece of student gossip?"

"Go on," he said.

"Walburga didn't tell you?" When Tom shook his head in response, Dolohov continued, "Bilius Weasley broke up with her."

"Really?" Tom said, suddenly more interested in observing how Minerva was taking it. Rather than upset, she seemed supremely offended. "That's... he... why would he ever do that?" He wondered what was an appropriate waiting time before one could ask her out after a breakup. He found he didn't care, and decided to do as he damn well pleased.

Dolohov looked at him curiously. "Do you fancy McGonagall, Tom?"

"More than anything else it's probably these damned teenage hormones," Tom said blandly, "but yes, I suppose I do. Think she'll go out with me? I am a year younger," he added, his voice a fraction less confident.

"Who would dare say 'no' to Tom Riddle, what with your award for special services to the school?" Dolohov said. "And you're in half her classes, it won't be odd, not at all. Go ask her if you like."

Riddle nodded, and fell silent as he lay back in the grass, arms crossed behind his head as he considered possibilities, rising wordlessly when at last he decided on to be satisfactory and purposefully sat on the bench next to Minerva. "Afternoon, McGonagall," he said easily, and gazed up at the clouds puffing merrily along their courses in the aqure sky, stealing a glance at her from the corners of his eyes.

She showed no discomfort. "Hi, Riddle."

"Call me Tom."

"Well then, you call me Minerva."

He smiled. "All right." They fell silent again, and Tom could tell she was wondering if and when he would leave. As she relaxed again and decided to ignore his presence, her dark eyebrows meeting over stormy green eyes -probably, he thought, as she fantasized about hexing Weasley into next year- he spoke again. "Is something the matter?"

She barked a short laugh. "Why do you ask? I'm fine. If this is about me and Bilius, well, I don't see why the whole school cares. I'm not going to be crying my eyes out like Myrtle, and all for a stupid boy."

"I wasn't implying that at all," Tom said quietly. "But in defense against the dark arts, you couldn't produce a single nonverbal shield charm. And in potions, your draught of the living dead was sub par." He held up a hand as she opened her mouth to protest in indignation. "Wait, I'm not finished. And for such a brilliant witch as yourself it does not take much for one to deduce that something was troubling you, or you would have done all of the aforementioned flawlessly, I'm sure."

"You seem to pay me a good bit of attention," Minerva noted drily.

"I can't help it if I notice you and you don't notice me," Tom said off-handedly. "But you didn't deny that something _is_ troubling you."

"Well played," she said. "And fine, I'm upset about Bilius. It's insulting enough in _how_ he told me, but it's worse that the whole school won't shut up about it. Honestly," she snapped, "I don't see why it interests anyone who or who I'm not seeing."

"Can I interest you in who _I'm_ not seeing?" Tom asked, making his move. "You. And I'd very much like to."

Minerva began to smile. "I'm newly single and you're already asking me out?"

"I'm only asking you out if your answer is 'yes'."

She actually laughed aloud, and he saw Dolohov glance in their direction curiously. He winked. "Isn't it a bit sudden for you to be taking an interest in me?" Minerva said, still smiling.

"I've had an interest in you for longer than you'd be interested in hearing," Tom said charmingly. "Again, I can't help it if you're oblivious."

"You're doing a bad job of flattering me into acceptance, you know."

"Don't blame me, blame yourself. I don't usually get nervous when I'm talking to girls. You seem to be the exception."

She didn't even blush. "You've suavely saved yourself, though I find it difficult to admit it. I would be delighted to do something with you." She frowned. "But tomorrow. I should be flying now, not moping over the idiot I wasted two years on."

"Excellent," Tom said. "Really excellent. Tomorrow then, Minerva. The weekend is ours."

"Tomorrow it is, Ri- Tom," she replied. "Ah, that will take some getting used to! I'll see you around."

Tomorrow could not come soon enough for Tom, as he had a clever outing planned. There was a music festival in one of the parks at Hogsmeade, something he was sure she would enjoy. She was waiting for him in the library, half-hidden behind her enormous bookbag but still very pretty, black hair loosed from her usual absurdly tight ponytail and attired in a cotton blouse and breezy knee-length skirt. She smiled upon seeing him, and she stood. "So. What are you doing?" She asked, taking his arm but still maintaining a respectable distance. Tom knew he would have to be careful; there would be no hurried kissing nor straying hands with Minerva, not if he didn't want an Immobulus used on him.

"The music festival in Hogsmeade," he said, enjoying the looks of envy cast in their direction as they left the castle. "Is that all right?"

"Sounds lovely," Minerva said.

"Does a picnic sound lovely as well?"

"Perfectly," she said. "Lead on."

They whiled away that afternoon at the festival, lunch becoming a formality of the date to be observed, spending more time instead playfully arguing about the most ridiculous and insignificant of things. "It's conclusive then," he said after yet another discussion.

"I couldn't agree more."

"Yes. Slughorn's animagus form must be a walrus."

The sun was setting on the Scottish grounds, and Minerva glanced up, shading her eyes against the red and golden sky, her body sillouhetted against nature's backdrop. "I really must be getting back," she said at last. "We both ought to. You're a prefect, I'm head girl, you're underage..."

"No, stay and watch the fireworks with me," Tom said hurriedly, catching her wrist. "We have enough time."

Minerva made a soft noise of protest, and tried to free her wrist. "No, I really must be going. Do you want to miss curfew? Let go of me right now, Tom Riddle, or I'll dock five points from Slytherin for... I don't know... assault."

"It's not assault," Tom said. "And curfew's not for another half hour," he added, pulling her back down beside him. "Please, just stay and watch with me." She sat, hugging her knees to her chest and obviously annoyed. "Come on, Minerva, it won't be so bad." He put his arm around her. "We'll sit her, maybe hold hands, enjoy the nighttime ambiance.." His long fingers found hers. They were warm, and slightly callused, but her palms were soft and pliant in the center, the roughness around the edges, just as he had imagined them to feel. "It won't be long," he said.

"Fine," she said at last, relaxing. "Quite pushy already, aren't you? Perhaps being a prefect and the resident hero of Hogwarts has gone to your head?"

Tom's eyes flashed at that line, but he forced a smile and didn't reply once he saw she was only teasing. "Shhh, it's starting."

The musical accompaniment was timed to the display beautifully, he found himself thinking, as each crackle and boom disrupted the quiet air around them. There was the soft whistle as the rockets ascended and that brief moment of hesitance as the music swelled and the cracker hung suspended in the darkening sky. Then came the crack, and the music would gently peak, shortly followed by the boom, just a fraction of a beat off. Tom found himself smiling, the enchanted fireworks spiraling as they shot through the night sky. They started out like the Muggle kind, simple explosions of color and light. Gradually though, the sparks lingered, hovering on the edges in a halo of green and gold light. As the music neared the finale the rockets crisscrossed past one another on their paths, burning streamers of gold into the deep indigo backdrop. Tom turned to watch Minerva, and was pleased with what he beheld. Her face was lifted slightly upward to more fully take in the sight, her eyes wide and the lights reflected in them -literally making her starry-eyed, Tom thought with amusement- and her jaw hung slack. "What do you think?" he began to whisper, but her words were lost as the final fireworks exploded in a boom made deafening by the accompanying crash of drums and rumbling of bass instruments, the violins' bright, quick vibrato adding color to the sound. Her eyes widened, and she smiled after her initial shock subsided, the corners of her mouth tilted up in an open mouthed grin. It gave her an almost feral appearance, he thought. "What do you think?" he asked again, and she faced him this time.

"Beautiful," she said softly. "Absolutely beautiful." Her inflection became businesslike. "But you've displeased me in one area."

Tom felt annoyed and pathetically panicked. "What? What's wrong?"

Minerva laughed mockingly. "Calm down, Tom. It's minor. I'm just not into the whole overtly romantic thing, okay? I'd rather start out casually with you. It's only been a day since.. you know."

"How is this overtly romantic?" Tom wondered aloud.

Minerva smiled archly. "Really now? Holding hands while watching the fireworks, and quite alone?" She frowned suddenly. "I didn't care much for the ending though.

"Of the show?"

"Yes," she said slowly. "That whole bit where the sparks from the other fiireworks combined to form that garishly green skull and the snake... it was cool in concept, but the construction of the thing itself was quite shoddy."

Tom grimaced, feeling insulted. "I thought it was quite good." He decided now would be a bad time to profess his hand in that part of the display.

"Good?" She laughed. "You have low standards for drawings! Here, have any parchment on you?" He shook his head. "Okay, may I have your arm?" She rummaged around in her purse for a pen, finding a fountain pen after a short while.

"Go ahead." Tom watched as she drew the skull and snake on his arm, muttering to herself all the while: "No, green is too...obnoxious, better for it to be black... it must be more realistic... I think... hmmm, now for shading.." and so on.

She neared completion after a quarter hour, the light quite exhausted, and tucked the pen away, holding his arm up to his face, and the back of his had felt suddenly cold, now out of her lap. "Done. Much more of an impact now, it's so much more dark and visible. Call it your 'Dark Mark.'" She pushed her black hair back with inky fingers. "Has a nice ring to it."

Tom stared at his left forearm, and back at Minerva, a newfound respect in his eyes. No, there would be no broom cupboards, no midnight rendezvous with this one. "An excellent drawing," he said at last. "Really excellent."

"I do my best," she said modestly. "But I really should be getting back."

"Of course." They stood, and Tom coudn't help but look back at his arm repeatedly. _A Dark Mark_...

"Tom?" she asked as they neared the astronomy tower, the place where it all began.

"Hmm?"

"I hope on our next outing you'll be paying more attention to me, and not my drawing?"

Next outing already? He smiled mischievously. "I'd be mad to do such a thing."

_Hogwarts, '97_

McGonagall gazed up at the green skull and snake hovering above Dumbledore's body beneath the tower window where he fell.

"We can get rid of it," Sprout said softly. "We will get rid of it," and cheeks wet she and the rest of Hogwarts raised their wands and erased the livid green from the sky.

"If only," she mused softly to herself. "If only." And she refused to think any more of that March evening.

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><p><strong>AN: Hello my lovelies! Hope you enjoyed. I've decided writing TomPOV is FUN. Leave a review pleeeaaaaassssseee! I take requests too!**


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